The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Artistic Director and Co-Founder of TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS. | Author of "Nachtstürm Castle," "Niamh and the Hermit." | Playwright: "Cupid and Psyche," "Math for Actors." | Classical director and educator.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Curioser and curioser

Some non sequiterial thunks:

  • Hurrah! There is an affordable ticket to TX for the exact dates I want! I kiss Expedia's feet!

  • My birthday is a month from tomorrow.... A moment for shock and awe. (Shocked and slightly embarrassed by the sight of Larry in a towel, Junior Asparagus pulled himself together and asked, "Why do you need a hairbrush? You don't have any haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaair!") I feel as though I don't quite know what to do with birthdays. It's always faintly embarrassing to have a day dedicated to you by those closest to you - "unseemly" and forward as it were - which is why I've always been very glad that it falls so close to the beginning of the school year that I needn't draw attention to it to others. But at the same time, I hardly dread the passing of years. Even though this year I'll be T-minus-2-to-30. It's odd - it's as though the new number has happened to someone else with whom I seem to be associated. Regardless, after last year's Parade of Smelly Products (i.e., bath stuff, cream stuff, candle stuff, etc.) because I Didn't Want To Ask For Anything; Surprise Me - I've at least realized that if I don't want to plaster on a strained smile as I open the umpteenth bath oil, I ought to simply make a list out. I'm always happier myself when someone tells me *what they want* - why shouldn't others be as well? Silly Emily.

  • Tomorrow (*sniff sniff*) I go to Concord (*wufflemufflemoan*) to hand over my baby (*unrestrained mopey-eyes gazing off into nothingness*), aka my external hard drive to have a single copy of KOF and ACC made (*longsuffering sigh insert here*). I'm really terrible at letting go.

  • Which brings me to this year. School year that is. OK - first, officially, I don't know if this is my last year there or if next year will be. Regardless, according to the archdiocese, my five year grace period as a religion teacher sans masters Will Be Up and I'll need to move on anyway. So either this year or next. But I find - how typical and typically ironic is this? - that when I look into the great void (or lack of void: very crowded metaphorical void, hence voiding the name void, but for lack of a better term, voidish) the thought of holding on Scrat-like to where I am now becomes the primary instinct. And yet - and yet - "to die will be an awfully big adventure." To die, that is, not in the conservative reading of Hamlet's speech, but rather to die to this chapter of my life. The ending of things is very hard indeed. Last night, I couldn't sleep until 4 a.m., despite the fact that I was in bed four hours previous to the time I finally conked out. I simply - started thinking - of the first day of school, of ways I can make out the curriculum better, of a Master Calendar, of what my new room might look like, of the upcoming year, in fact. (And then I dreamt about it, and it was not pleasant. Thoughts might have the courtesy to stay where the waking brain can deal firmly with them, really!) So, at the end of all things, I finally figure them out. Mais naturallement. But....

  • Lord, is this really what You want? (The Emerson thing, I mean. The Blue Fairy tapping my brow and turning me into a Real Director thing.) Is this the way? Is this another false path? And what does this year hold (I shudder to think!) that will fully close the door to where I am? But - everything happens in its season. And those things that we dread ("the fear of something after death; the undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller e'er returns") are never as terrible as the midnight chimaeras we conjure while wake-dreaming. There is a great comfort in obliviousness. I could use a dose of it right now.

  • Meeting with MJ on Friday - v. much looking forward to it. Am determined to get up for 9 a.m. mass tomorrow come hell or high water. Going to chaperone a visit with Fr. Jonathan and two girls to a convent in Boston for them to come and see (plus mass with Fr. Jonathan!). Hopefully about to purchase tickets to TX for last full week of August. Need to contact an Emerson fellow to sit down with him and chat. Prob. should contact Ian about profs. at Emerson. Hopefully will gather actors needed for frosh. orientation skit. Must finish writing Nutcracker. And with that the thought returns: what in the world am I doing?!?!?

    How time passes.

    Mood: Pensive
    Music: Flannel Collage - prob. not helping much with the "are you pondering what I'm pondering" moody
    Goodness is: Subs for dinner from D'Angelos mit mein pater und meine mater. And I can mix languages all I like, thank you very much!


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